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Skyhooked Punk - Day 3 - This That Rescue You Ordered?
Edwards let Keller and Adler back to her ship without saying a word. She was a dark cloud losing to Keller … worse … he won fair and gorram square. ‘Side she didn’t have anything further to say on the matter other than losing with done shred of dignity. Serena was going to be PISSED. Edwards swung open the door wide to let all three of them in and the click of hammer made her freeze but the state of the cargo bay made her blood run cold. Vas Jat stood pointing a gun at her cool as a cucumber, covered from lips to knees in fresh blood. Uncollard and a bag over his shoulder. On one side was the mechanic sprawled face down in an enormous pool of blood. He hadn’t been a small man either as least twice as wide at the Jat boy. And the other was Serena in a ball shaking and making small whispering noises. “Heya Ca- …..” Vas tone was mocking before he stopped tilting his his head seeing Keller and Doc. “ ….Hey!” He said his tone brighter. “I take it you all won?” He asked curiously still trained on Edwards. “The -- hell son, you -- all right?” Captain Keller asked lowering his raised hands at the weapon. Richelle Edwards, on the other hand was thinking twice about reaching for her own weapon, her eyes wide as they took in the scene in front of her. Dorian surveyed the scene with an air of resignation. “Yah right,” he whispered to the captain. “This is a much more appropriate solution.” Before him lay a man of some size, face down in a pool of what the medic assumed to be his own blood. Upon squatting to check for vitals, he probed his way through the shredded remains of the victim’s throat. “No arterial or venous pulse,” he reported while wiping bloody fingers on the corpsified back. “He doesn’t happen tah possess either vessel.” It appeared that of this oft-storied slaver crew only two remained alive, the braggadocious captain, and a little girl who sobbed and muttered to herself. Adler turned his attentions to the battered punk. “Y’all right, Mistah Vas?” “Me? Peachy as wine.” Vas said. “Well, this is-, “ Keller interjected. “Do I want to know what happened?” “No.” Vas answered Keller gun still pointed at Edwards. “This mean we good to go?” The young punk asked. “Yeah, lemme just -- his contract.” Keller said, pointing to Edwards. Physical copy you made the boy sign, I’m gonna need it. Son, why don’t you give me the pea shooter, I’ll go with the Captain to collect it, Adler, you can… “ he waved his hand to signify whatever was going on in the room, before slowly moving towards the punk with the gun. “Reminds me near of when we first met.” He said in a soothing voice. “C’mon an’ give me the gun, son, it’s gonna be okay.” “Last time the gun was empty.” Vas joked holding out the gun handel first to Keller. “And you were easier to knock out.” Keller quipped back, pointing the shooty-end towards Richelle. “You try anything and pretend I threatened you but good.” He said, waving her forward into the bowels of the ship. “How ‘bout you?” Dorian asked the whimpering girl. “Vas?” he called across the deck, “yah know this child?” To his eye, the only sign of her suffering was a crudely wrapped hand clutched to her chest. “Her name’s Serena.” Vas said sitting thinking how he should have raided the galley. He was starving! “She might be a tad shook up.” He said stating the obvious. The girl was clutching her hand to her chest, further covered by a rag full of ice. Tears running numbly down her cheeks. “Ah conjured that,” the medic replied. He also noted the absence of the shock collar and ankle cuff previously worn by Vas, and still present on his latest dance partner. That alone was cause to proceed with caution. “So tell me...is she a good Serena, or a bad Serena?” Serena cringed further, trying to disappear into the hull of the ship as if it were possible. Vas really didn’t know how to answer such a question. After all how would that reflect on him. Would he be a bad person for what he did to survive? Someone surely would think that. Though another might argue he did what he did to survive. “She’s just a kid.” Was all he had to say on the matter. Adler nodded as he pulled a pair of gloves from his bag. “Very well,” he said. “Serena, let’s see that hand.” Soft tissue crush wounds...digits misaligned, he thought, hoping for mere dislocations. “Can yah walk?” he asked. “Ah‘ll treat yah in our infirmary.” Serena pulled back away from the man in the button up coat, throwing a fast glance to Vas. “No,” she said, her lowered voice full of trepidation. “No, no, no, no.” Vas tried to wipe the blood off his face but just smeared all over his face and arm. “She’s a might tetchy apparently.” “Alright,” Adler backed away from the frightened girl. “Just rest. We’ll figure it out.” Clutching his medical bag, he crossed over to Vas. Outwardly, the punk bore numerous signs of physical altercation. Lacerations and contusions were scattered across his chest, arms, and face. The unhealthy angle the boy’s nose had adopted foretold of yet another fracture. He had nasty welts and lacerations on his back, along with burns to his bare feet. But his words...some pretty disparate thoughts and off kilter emotional reactions...had the medic worried as he dropped to one knee. Head trauma or traumatic brain injury were always a possibility in a life or death bare knuckle brawl, but Vas Jat had suffered another, more insidious scourge, strong and repeated electrical shocks. “Let me check yah eyes,” Adler said as he brought a pen light to bear. “Sure Doc.” He said putting himself at the man’s mercy. “Folk do love them head shots.” Vas muttered. This wasn’t good. He needed people. He needed transportation. “Let’s have yah lie down,” Dorian said quietly. “Ah’m gonna cradle yah neck an’ tha back of yah head. Nice an’ easy,” he said as the punk settled onto the deck. “Now, just lie still.” Dorian fished in his pocket, fingers closing around the little cortex reader. He tapped a quick sequence, and waited as the screen’s “connecting” icon cycled. C’mon, Riley, he thought. Pick up. Riley who was ‘enjoying’ her time manning the chair outside of the Lunar Veil picked up quickly enough. “Adler?” Thorne replied dryly, answering the com. “Got a medical emergency,” Dorian replied without wasting breath. “Two patients...one is Vas Jat. Ah need tha orange back board from Medbay. Patient two is an adolescent female...there’s a grey case with tha letters “IM” stenciled on it. Need both those down here now...Hangar G8, boat’s called tha Skyhook.” He paused to offer the Lt. a quick view of the scene. “We’ll need people..you an’ whoevah else yah have on hand.” “Engineer’s working on the ship, I’ll grab her, see if I can find the nun and the kid.” She paused for a second. “Is Jat gonna be all right? What happened?” The Lieutenant was proving her ability to walk and talk at the same time as she left the chair and sign, double-timing it to find Adler’s grey case.. “Major altercation,” Dorian responded. “He appears altered...possible concussion or TBI, Ah need tah run a full series tah assess. Female has potential fractures and crush injuries tah one hand, but she’s so traumatized Ah can’t clarify on tha scene.” He took a breath. “You, tha mechanic an’ one more should work. Captain’s on tha scene, so we can handle with that numbah.” “Wait, you said… the Skyhook? The Gorram ship that Shanghai’s people? The rut he get mixed up in now?” Kid sure knew how to pick ‘em. “I’ll try an’ find the kid or the nun. Set tight, I’ll get the Mule out there A-SAP. Make sure the Captain doesn’t shake any hands or drink anything this time.” “Copy.” Adler rummaged through his bag. “Mistah Vas,” he said, “Ah’m gonna try tah make yah more comfortable.” This he attempted first with a spray treatment to the back wounds. “Yah should feel cool, an’ then a bit numb. Now we’re gonna give yah neck some support.” He brought a second spray can to bear, firing a thick, yellowish goo beneath the punk’s neck. After a quick shot to both sides, he was satisfied as the foam expanded into a simple immobilizing pillow. “Bettah,” the medic observed. “Now, just relax til tha cavalry comes..” “I mean I did take a shot to the face is. Sure it's nice what your doing but, aren't you make a big fuss over a broken nose?“ Vas asked innocently. Not the kind of treatment he was used to! Normally it was just stitch ‘em up and kick ‘em in the ass on the way out. Doc was calling for a stretcher and a mule! Honestly Vas was (mostly) fine. Nothing he couldn't handle with some food, pain meds and sleep. Preferably in that order. Oh and hot shower … The blood was getting dry and sticky. “Really I’m shiney. Just a busted nose I swear.” “Shut up, Vas,” Dorian winked. “This is how Ah get tah charge such high bills.” “Yes sir.” Vas said knowing better than to argue with Doc. Man was as stand up as they come as far as Vas was concerned calvary was here so the young punk could relax a little. He just didn’t want to nod straight away till they were rolling back but now that the adrenalin was gone, pain was setting in and hunger gnawing at his belly he couldn’t decide what was more important. Sleep or food. Keller re-emerged without Captain Edwards, satisfied with the knowledge that he had a good right hook when need be, and to be honest, taking out a gorram piece of shit just felt good. The Captain of the Lunar Veil wasn’t exactly a pacifist, but he’d seen enough gunplay during the war to last him a lifetime. He didn’t exactly relish pointing a gun at no one, and liked even less having one pointed his way, but he tucked the pea shooter the rooster boy somehow procured in the waistband of his pants. The back of course, lest it go off and hit anything vital. When he got back to the Cargo hold, the doc had the punk semi-trussed up lying on the ground. The dead mechanic, well, it ain’t like he was gonna get up and leave. “How you doin’ son?” He asked the rooster kid as he stood feet facing the boy’s head, giving him a good view up the Captain’s nose. “Doc’s got you, you’re in good hands.” “Tired. Hungry as hell. I ain’t got fed for two days. Any off chance you got fruity oaty bars? Hell I take stale crackers even.” The punk asked eyes half lid. Vas had zero shame when it came to food. “Don’t worry son, we’ll get you fed and squared away. Anything you want. Within reason - you don’t want to eat into your own profits - literally! What about you, mei mei?” He said softly to the girl cowering in the corner. “Are you hungry? Don’t worry, ain’t no one on our ship gonna hurt you.” Serena drew into a smaller ball, flicking her eyes towards the boy lying on the ground, quickly diverting them back to her shoes. “No,” she pleaded. “I wanna stay with the Skyhook, please? He -- he killed Adahm.” “Don’t mind the kid Captain. She’s a might shell shocked … you know …” Vas said with a vague wave to the dead mechanic. He didn’t want explicitly say it but the implication was crystal clear. Vas did what he had to and seemed unphased by the brutality of it. “Please, I don’t wanna go! I belong t’the Skyhook.”’ “Easy, easy.” The Captain said, slightly unsettled himself from the rooster punk’s eerie calmness, trying to make heads or tails of the situation. “I can’t.” She whispered. “It’s… “ Her eyes darted back to Vas, and she mumbled something incoherently. “Monsters.” “Ain’t no monsters here.” Keller promised, as usual, completely missing the mark.. Given the ship’s reputation, he naturally believed some hallucinogen or drug was involved. “Doc?” He asked, not so subtly. “You have something-- “ He jerked a thumb towards Serena, then let his head loll to one side, his eyes closed, miming being asleep. He didn’t mind bruising his knuckles on the Captain of the ship, she had it a long time coming and as it turned out a glass jaw, but punching a kid? He rolled a shoulder to warm up just in case. It was like getting Vas off the Clover. Done for his own good. “Ah have this,” Adler’s tone was droll, but it lightened as he dropped to one knee. “Miss Serena, mah name’s Dorian. Ah know that hand is hurtin’ somethin’ fierce.” From his bag came a small bottle and some cotton wadding. He pressed the fabric to the open top before up ending it. A mild floral scent rose into the air as the medic finished moistening the cotton. “This’ll stop tha pain,” he offered. “Now, just breathe.” The anesthetic did it’s work; after a few breaths, he had to catch the girl as she sagged to the deck, unconscious. “She’s good fah an hour,” the doc pronounced. From outside came the sputtering cough of the mule. Reinforcements had arrived. “It’ll take us just a moment tah get ‘em both travel ready,” Dorian said. “Mistah Vas, yah first. Let us do tha liftin’. You just relax.” “Yes Doc.” Vas said obediently. “Hey Lieutenant.” Vas said with a crooked smile and a way when she walked in. Riley, flanked by the new engineer, eyed her former crew chief, while the briefest sign of remorse crossed her face, only to be instantly replaced with a stoic expression perfected from years of military training. She lay the back-board she was carrying down on the ground next to the young punk. “Jat,” she replied with a nod. “Let’s get you back aboard the El-Vee. Ride’s waitin’. “ She briefly eyed the scene in the bay of the ship. One man, lying in a pool of his own blood. Her crew chief covered in blood, either his own or of the man who likely was slashed or gutted judging from all of the blood. The bay was already infused with the strong metallic scent which would only grow worse over time. She eyed the captain who offered up a brief shrug in response. “Neck injury?” She asked the doc, moving by the boy’s feet to help position him on the board. Adler positioned himself to lift Vas by the shoulders and head. “Ah don’t think so,” he replied, his voice lifting and inquisitive. “Ah’ll test fah that, as well as TBI and concussion.” Marisol piped up. “Got your new gear installed this morning. The new treatment table, too. You’re good to go.” “Great,” the medic replied. “Alright, captain...lieutenant...kindly lift him by the chest and torso. Marisol, take him by tha knees. Straight onta tha back board on three. One...two...three.”